


Winter Is Cold Without You

by ArtThiefAtHeart



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Choking on Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Love You, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, The Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtThiefAtHeart/pseuds/ArtThiefAtHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers depends on Bucky Barnes for a lot, so when the war tears him away, Steve doesn't know what he'll do. Luckily, some people get second chances at life. Unluckily, some people come back completely different than who they were before.  //  Now with a part two (Spoiler: it's just more fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve couldn’t breathe.  
It wasn’t the cold. It wasn’t the cigarette smoke that wafted up from the apartment below that scratched his lungs. It wasn’t an asthma attack—though it could soon turn into one. Steve couldn’t breathe because his heart had just been ripped out of his chest, placed in an envelope, and delivered to him by a man in a military uniform.  
Bucky was dead.  
Bucky was killed in action.  
Bucky got himself assigned to some top secret mission and died in some far-away country, and there wasn’t even a body to bury.  
Steve had been trying for the longest time to enlist, but the answer was always the same, and now there was no Bucky to see in uniform, to serve alongside, to huddle next to around the fire during the long cold nights. He wasn’t ever going to be allowed to serve, and it kept him from being there for Bucky when he needed him—Bucky, who had been there for Steve every day of his life since the day they met, who had nursed him back to health when he was sick, who had curled around him when he was cold, who had worked hard to feed them because Steve just couldn’t.  
He felt his face flush. The thought that he would never feel the lean, hard muscle of Bucky’s chest pressed against his back again left a rock in his stomach, but the memory made his heart flutter.  
Steve was pretty sure he loved Bucky. They hadn’t shared anything more than long nights together and a few chaste kisses when they were feeling brave or reckless or both, but every light peck of Bucky’s lips set him on fire. Now he would never feel that again.  
The sob he’d been choking back exploded from his throat.  
He would never see Bucky again.  
There was no body to bury.

Steve found an easy job working at a diner. It was a fancy place, and a few people tipped well. It helped keep his belly full. It wasn’t far from the apartment, and the manager was nice, and let him work smaller, more manageable shifts. He was always home before dark.  
He was usually home before dark.  
One night, a few foreign dignitaries were visiting, and the diner was bustling, people crowding around the radio to hear. The manager pleaded with Steve, and he agreed to stay late. When he finally clocked out, he was ready to collapse. He paused on his way home, eyeing the alley nearby. It was a shortcut, and it was dangerous at night—heck, it was dangerous during the day—but it cut ten minutes off his walk home, and he could avoid any extra traffic from the assassination hubbub. It was tempting. He risked it.  
Halfway down the alley, though, he was beginning to regret his decision. His skin was crawling, his brain screaming that he was being followed, that this was how he would die. It was only half right. Behind him a can crunched under someone’s foot, and he whirled around, letting out an undignified yelp. It was cut off by a hand on his throat, and he was pushed roughly against the wall. He could already see the bruises blooming in his mind. He gulped in enough air to plead for his life.  
“I’m not worth it. I’ve got nothing,” he gasped.  
Then, a shaft of light hit the man’s eyes, and he froze. It had been four long, agonizing years, but he knew those eyes.  
“Bucky?” he gasped. His vision was beginning to shrink, and it took all his strength to reach up and pull the man’s mask away. His hair was longer, and he was taller and broader, but it was Bucky.  
“Who the hell is Bucky?” was his reply, and Steve couldn’t understand, wouldn’t understand why his best friend didn’t seem know who either of them was. “You saw me, you die,” he muttered, but it sounded like a reminder, not a threat.  
“Bucky,” he pleaded weakly, one hand tugging at Bucky’s hand around his throat, a hand that dwarfed his even more now, and the other reaching out to stroke Bucky’s face. Bucky leaned into the touch for a moment, letting his eyes fall closed, but he quickly snapped back to attention.  
“No,” he growled, and his grip tightened.  
“Bucky, but I love you,” he breathed as the world inked out.

He woke up in bed, with warmth at his back. He jumped up and away, finding Bucky behind him, awake and watching him like a jungle cat.  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured flatly, carefully.  
Steve frowned.  
“You tried to kill me. You—” but his shaking voice quit completely when he saw Bucky’s arm, a horrifying metal contraption with a crude red star on the shoulder.  
“A lot has happened.” Bucky’s voice seemed to have lost all inflection, but he wasn’t dead.  
He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.  
Steve leaped back into bed, throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck and pressing harried kisses to every inch of his face, brushing back long hair and pressing against him tighter and tighter and tighter. Bucky rolled on top of Steve, nipping at his ear and pressing soft kisses to his cheek, jaw and neck.  
He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.  
Bucky was gentle with his metal arm, using it to prop himself up while his flesh arm cradled Steve close to him. Steve felt smaller than ever, but he didn’t care. He kissed Bucky slowly, as if he could go on kissing him forever, for eternity, for every moment there would ever be, until the universe ceased to exist. Bucky was the one to pull away, but he did so gently, with the knowledge that now there could be many more. He rested his head gently on Steve’s chest, not putting his full weight on him, and Steve played with his hair.  
“You said you loved me,” Bucky murmured, and Steve’s hand stilled, but only for the briefest of heartbeats.  
“I do.”  
Bucky lifted his head to gaze into Steve’s eyes, innocent and tender. His eyes stung, and his lips pulled into the softest of smiles.  
“I love you too.”


	2. Summer is Warm Beside You

The metal was warm against his skin.

Bucky's arm was always warm when Steve awoke in the morning, warmed in the night by their body heat. Steve peered up at Bucky's sleeping face. Steve had cut Bucky's hair their first night back together to make him feel more like himself. His face was creased with anxiety, but his body was relaxed. Bucky said that Steve soothed him. Steve suspected he said it just to see him blush.

"You're staring again," Bucky mumbled without even opening his eyes.

Steve chuckled softly, ignoring the way it made his lungs hurt just a little, and reached out to smooth the furrows from Bucky's brow with his index finger. "You're just so handsome, Buck."

Bucky's face warmed to the closest thing he got to a smile these days and he pulled Steve's slender form tighter against him, kissing the top of his head. "Hey, I love you."

Steve chuckled again. "You say that every morning."

Bucky grumbled.

"I love you too, Buck," Steve wiggled up to whisper against Bucky's cheek before pressing a kiss to it. "I bought blueberries for the pancakes this morning."

Bucky sighed, nuzzling his face in the crook of Steve's neck, wrapping himself around Steve. "That's too expensive."

"But it's a special occasion!"

"What occasion?"

Steve was quiet for a moment. "You don't remember?" he murmured. 

Bucky just shook his head, which was still pressed against Steve. 

"It's your birthday," Steve whispered, threading his fingers through Bucky's silky hair.

Bucky started blankly into space through Steve's chest for a while before murmuring a soft, "oh."

Steve pulled himself gently from Bucky's embrace and climbed under the bed, pushing things out of the way until he found what he was looking for. He sat cross legged, knees pressed to Bucky's side, and laid a square, newspaper-wrapped package on his chest. "For you," he whispered. 

Tears immediately shone in Bucky's eyes—emotions came so quickly and honestly for him these days—and he pushed himself up into a sitting position, holding the present so very gently. "When did you get this?" 

Steve dropped his gaze. "I made it just after you were deployed. For when you got back."

"And you kept it? Even though—?" The lump in Bucky's throat was audible as he choked on it.

"For when you got back," Steve breathed again.

Bucky set the package gently at the end of the bed, and Steve was suddenly worried that there was something wrong with the wrapping or the timing, but the worry was gone just as quickly as it arose. Bucky took Steve's face gently with his real hand to bring Steve's gaze to his own, using the metal one to drag Steve into his lap. Bucky's eyes were locked on his the entire time, until he pressed his lips softly to Steve's, Bucky's tears wet on Steve's cheeks. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck as Bucky grew more insistent, and soon they were devouring each other hungrily, as they always ended up doing ever since Bucky returned, until Steve was flushed and wheezing softly, smiling broadly, and Bucky was smiling even as tears continued to slip from the corners of his eyes. Bucky reached for the package, placing it in Steve's lap, his metal hand still splayed on the small of Steve's back.

"What'd you get me?" Bucky smirked.

"You've gotta open it."

Bucky unwrapped it with one hand, forehead pressed to Steve's. He pulled a necktie free from the packaging and draped it around his neck. 

"This looks familiar," he mused. 

Steve chuckled. "Remember that shirt you wore even after you outgrew it, and your ma hid it from you so you'd stop?"

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, then pressed another kiss to Steve's lips. "God, do I love you."

Steve smiled and grabbed both ends of the tie, tugging softly. 

"Come on, help me make pancakes."


End file.
